Chapter 42

Reaching into his rear pocket, Shin retrieved his wallet and extracted a business card alongside a folded slip of paper. The slip bore a man’s three-syllable name and contact number, while the card belonged to a prominent politician.

Though Se-gyeom insisted his bond with Young was acceptable, Shin remained certain their marriage possessed a brief lifespan.

His sister’s whims were notoriously fleeting. With their father’s meddling curtailed by marriage, her guard had relaxed, and being intensely emotional, she had now encountered someone she genuinely cared for. The second opportunity presented itself, she would abandon this marriage without hesitation.

The true problem lay in how she would conclude it. Words like courtesy and duty did not exist in Lee Young’s vocabulary; she would either overturn the union on a whim or abandon it entirely, much like tossing an impulsive designer handbag into the corner of a closet and forgetting its existence.

Loathing messy divorce procedures, she was highly likely to disappear into her whirlwind romance without leaving a trace. Therefore, Shin deemed that Se-gyeom would eventually require this number.

He genuinely hoped the prosecutor would put it to effective use—to secure a smooth divorce and strip away that preposterous label connecting them as family.

After studying the slip quietly, Se-gyeom reached out and accepted the paper.

Thanks to his father-in-law’s stature, securing a politician’s business card was no longer difficult for the prosecutor, yet this particular card featured a private cell number inscribed by hand.

“Not being my father, I cannot bestow high office upon you, but you ought to benefit from the garden’s auspicious aura,” Shin murmured with a dry smirk.

Se-gyeom’s gaze turned intricate as he regarded his brother-in-law. The politician named on the card was a pivotal figure required as a material witness in an ongoing investigation. Having struggled to reach him through secretarial staff, a direct line would simplify matters considerably; it seemed the Joint Chiefs’ intelligence reach was hardly confined to military boundaries.

Tucking the card away, Se-gyeom lingered on the leather wallet resting in Shin’s hands. It was an item unsuited to a man unlikely to carry worn accessories—a seasoned, hand-rubbed leather wallet that looked strangely familiar, bearing embossed numbers pressed into plain black hide.

Where have I seen that wallet before? Surely…

White cigarette ash scattered from Se-gyeom’s fingers like falling petals.

Hearing a vehicle enter the garage, both men rose to their feet. It was Lee Myung-heon’s sedan.

Greeting his son, son-in-law, and wife with a radiant, satisfied smile, General Lee stepped inside. His daughter was nowhere in sight, yet he showed no annoyance; on a celebratory occasion, her absence was preferable to an argument.

Stepping forward politely, Se-gyeom said, “Father-in-Law, it appears my wife had an urgent situation arise with a friend.”

General Lee waved his hand with a hearty laugh. “Young has a soft heart. She isn’t the type to ignore a friend in distress. Let her look after them.”

Watching the transparent exchange between son-in-law and father-in-law, So-hwa’s face drained of expression in sheer exasperation. She knew her daughter had never been in the area to begin with, feeling annoyed at her son-in-law for covering it up yet simultaneously grateful that he shielded the girl’s shortcomings.

“Look at the hour already. Let’s dine immediately. The birthday celebrant should wash his hands first,” So-hwa urged briskly.

She hastened her husband toward the washroom.

For a meal billed as a modest dinner, the banquet spread was exceedingly lavish. Arranged for a celebrant who favored traditional cuisine, royal platters including gujeolpan and sinseollo were arrayed in polished brass tableware, glistening under the chandelier.

“We could have dined simply at a restaurant,” General Lee commented, taking his seat, “but the military has been turbulent lately. Celebrating outside doesn’t feel right.”

“I heard my brother-in-law has been managing those turbulent matters splendidly,” Se-gyeom remarked pleasantly.

Taking a spoonful of soup with obvious pride, General Lee asked, “That’s classified intelligence; did word reach you already? Shin has been making quite an impression since donning his major’s insignia. By the way, where is our youngest in-law tonight?”

Taking a spoonful of soup, General Lee glanced between Se-gyeom and Shin, inquiring after Se-woong.

So-hwa countered sharply. “How could he attend when nobody invited him? You should have given advance notice if you wanted Prosecutor Cha or Shin to bring him.”

“Is he a toddler,” General Lee huffed, “needing a formal invitation? Anyone serving in our armed forces is my own kin! Does that need explicit words? He should have come to enjoy a hearty meal.”

“For a junior officer to show up uninvited at the Army Chief of Staff’s birthday feast, would that look sane? People would think he was obsessed with currying favor for a star! Next time, I’ll invite him properly. Just eat your dinner,” she retorted.

General Lee grumbled, blinking in retreat. “Fine, fine, I hear you.”

Overwhelmed by his wife’s rapid-fire retort, General Lee yielded. In her youth she had never talked back, yet nowadays she repaid one word with ten, leaving him with little room to counter. Among family, she held zero reservations.

With a satisfied nod, General Lee added, “I only wanted to sit him down and offer praise, having heard how diligently he works. They say he’s remarkably thorough. That fellow at the JCS is notoriously stingy with compliments, yet he openly covets him.”

“He is simply conscientious,” Se-gyeom deflected modestly, “which often earns him praise exceeding his actual contributions.”

General Lee shook his head firmly. “I admire that modesty in you, Prosecutor Cha, but in today’s world, being excessively humble costs a man his due. Take praise to heart when earned.”

“Thank you, sir,” Se-gyeom responded with a nod.

With practiced elegance, Se-gyeom deboned a fish, extracting the spine from the fin and lifting the tender fillet in one clean motion. Watching the display, Shin finally understood why Se-woong, despite his neat chopstick etiquette, had never been skilled at deboning fish; his elder brother had evidently done it for him throughout childhood, just as Shin had done ever since they met.

Speaking casually, General Lee inquired, “Speaking of the youngest, have you considered his marriage prospects yet?”

Se-gyeom paused, his chopsticks hovering. “His… marriage prospects?”

“Regardless of the era,” General Lee lectured, “an officer is best served establishing a family early. Transfers are frequent, and when an officer lives alone, he struggles to put down roots. Only with a family can a man remain grounded when his station shifts.”

Listening intently, Shin lowered his utensils onto the tablecloth and reached for his water glass. His throat felt parched and rough, desperate for moisture. Talk of a marriage without the participant’s consent held no real weight, yet hearing it made his blood run cold, exasperating Shin with how fiercely it rattled him.

“Since he’s stationed at the JCS right now, wouldn’t it be ideal to settle it while he’s in Seoul?” General Lee pressed further.

Se-gyeom kept his voice neutral. “I prefer leaving my brother’s marriage to his own wishes.”

Waving a fork, General Lee insisted, “You need to nudge him toward having that wish! If an officer merely buries himself in unit duties, years slip by in a flash. Grow accustomed to solitude, and marriage becomes a chore. I’ll arrange a suitable meeting, so you step in and—”

Shin set his glass down with a quiet clatter. “Father.”

“And Shin,” General Lee redirected gruffly, “if you’re going to be so picky with every prospective match, you might as well align with Min-hyung. If you two hit it off, it would be ideal. What does Min-hyung lack?”

Just as Shin opened his mouth to confront his father, So-hwa intercepted the exchange.

A fierce glare flashing in her eyes, she snapped, “Why on earth are you discussing the marriage of someone who isn’t even in the room? Is this a ghost wedding? Talking about an arrangement the party knows nothing about? If you’re so desperate to arrange marriages, take a second wife or adopt another child yourself—without my knowledge.”

“What! Woman, how dare you!”

On the verge of losing his temper, General Lee caught his breath and forced down his fury. Flaunting unchecked rage belonged to his younger days; he knew full well he could no longer bludgeon his family into submission through sheer wrath.

A home was not a military regiment; he could not enforce blind obedience here, no matter how deeply ingrained that habit was.

Above all, maintaining dignity before his son-in-law remained a pressing consideration.

“I’m not ordering him to marry by force,” General Lee coughed, regaining composure, “I’m merely suggesting we sound out his thoughts. You understand, Prosecutor Cha?”

“Yes, Father-in-Law. I shall inquire with him,” Se-gyeom replied smoothly.

General Lee offered a pleased grunt. “Good, that’s all I ask. Not that he meet her immediately. At any rate, an academy classmate of mine has a daughter of remarkable intellect, so just have a conversation with him.”

Throughout the commotion, Se-gyeom quietly ladled soup into his mouth. His eyes drifted toward Shin, who had set down his utensils and showed zero intention of picking them up again.

Shin idly wiped condensation from his water glass, his appetite clearly evaporated after merely a few bites.

Could someone truly become this sensitive over a friend’s marriage? Possible, perhaps, yet hardly common; certainly neither Se-gyeom nor his peers had ever reacted with such raw tension.

The remainder of the dinner passed in tranquil peace.

As if she had never scolded her husband, So-hwa transformed back into a gracious hostess celebrating his birthday, while Shin handed over the prepared envelope. Se-gyeom placed a flower arrangement and gift package before General Lee as well.

“My wife and I selected the gift together,” Se-gyeom announced placidly.

He uttered the blatant falsehood with absolute serenity, eliciting a subtle, awkward silence; with the daughter failing to make an appearance, watching the son-in-law shoulder the celebration alone left a sheepish impression.

Se-gyeom bid farewell with a nod. “Let’s all get together with Woong-ie next time.”

The electric motor hummed faintly to life, gliding down the driveway into the night. Watching until the taillights vanished, Shin opened his car door as well.

Having merely eaten dinner and shared tea, the clock had already ticked past eleven. His mother had suggested he stay the night, though her offer sounded largely perfunctory.

More than a decade had passed since he moved out. While some claimed returning home felt like yesterday regardless of ten or twenty years, that sentiment did not apply to Lee Shin.

With conflicting daily rhythms, staying overnight was an inconvenience for both guest and host. Sharing that unspoken consensus, his mother simply offered a crisp wave, bidding him a pleasant departure.

Settling into the driver’s seat, Shin checked his call logs while yearning for a specific voice. At the very top, without needing to scroll, rested the single character ‘Woong’.

After several ringing tones, a raspy, sleep-laden voice drifted through the vehicle’s speakers.

A raspy murmur drifted through the speakers. —“Hello?”

“Were you asleep?” Shin asked softly.

—“No, not yet.”

Claiming he wasn’t asleep, the sluggish cadence unmistakably belonged to someone drifting in slumber. Even when roused from deep sleep, Se-woong habitually feigned wakefulness to avoid embarrassing the caller—a considerate habit Shin didn’t mind when directed at him, but disliked seeing extended to anyone else. In fact, Shin had once scolded him to speak honestly.

“You went home early,” Shin noted tenderly, “why were you still awake? Did you eat dinner?”

—“Yeah. I had a quick bite with Sergeant Kim before coming home. What about you?”